This week is the week I was due to have our son Matthew. On March 2, at my regular 18 week appointment there was no heartbeat and we found out that he had died sometime in the previous few weeks. The next day we went to the hospital, and after many hours he was delivered early in the morning on March 4^th.

We have remained fairly private about this experience. I feel, however, that it would be dishonest to just move past this week with no mention of the day that we have been anxiously anticipating and holds significance for us.

The past few months have been very surreal. Shock, depression, anxiety, grief, sadness and at times hope and even happiness. I have been thinking of a W. S. Merwin poem: “Your absence has gone through me, Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color." Like nothing will ever be the same again.

It is strange to miss and mourn for someone you never got to meet. His existence was mostly our anticipation and expectations for him. We have lost who he may have been, we have lost the chance to get to know him, our other children have lost the chance to be big brothers and a big sister to him.

In the few moments we had with him after he was delivered, I consciously tried to be present and alert so that I could keep this one and only memory we would have with him. Through the exhaustion and overwhelming sadness, I looked at him with a pure knowledge that I am his mother and he is my son. Someday I hope to see him again and that he will look at me and know the same thing.